


Shattered Beauty

by rulesofattraction



Category: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rulesofattraction/pseuds/rulesofattraction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Deraa, Ali has to deal with a broken man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe that for all these years I could have missed this beautiful, magnificent movie. A masterpiece. And since I am a sick woman, I instantly had to write some fanfic about it.

As Ali saw him thrown into the dirt, he instantly knew what has happened. Even covered by blood and dirt, Lawrence seemed to be something pure, something aloof of the barbarous reality of war and violence. But this was even worse, since Ali could not stand the sight of something beautiful having been destroyed.

“El Aurens!” He stumbled towards him until he was close. But the English did not answer. He flinched as Ali tried to help him standing up on himself, and he finally gave up and carried him until they reached their camels. “Can you ride on your own?” Lawrence nodded. Ali felt that it would be wrong to question this answer. “Then let´s go.” His forced smile froze, when he looked right into Lawrence´s eyes. Because in them there was nothing except the abyss of the endless and dark sky over a desert in the night.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sleep.” He tried to sound confident. Reassuring. Finally, his friend obeyed. But when Ali tried to get a little sleep himself, he heard that Lawrence was crying. “Aurens?” Instantly the crying turned into a forced rhythm of breathing. “It´s okay”, Ali whispered. Both of it was. Ali would have cried, too, when he would have been in Lawrence’ place. And he, too, would hide it.

In the end, Ali decided to move closer to his English friend without touching him. Knowing that if he would, Lawrence would flinch. It took a long time since the English man’s face did relax, gaining back its ethereal beauty.

 

* * *

  

In the early morning, Lawrence began to shift in his sleep. But it were his cries that pulled Ali out of his uneasy sleep. “No. Don’t. No. No.” The blonde´s body convulsed. “No.” Even more spasms.

“Hey, Aurens.” Ali tried to make his voice sound quiet and soft. Carefully, he reached to touch his friend’s shoulder. Instantly, the body went up, eyes wide open. Head wildly shaking. “No. Not again. I – I can’t.” “Shhh, it´s me.” Ali´s hands tried to fix the trembling body of his friend. “It´s okay. I´m here. I won´t harm you.”

Lawrence went still. For a few minutes everything seemed peaceful, Lawrence leaning into the touch of his Arab friend. They simply had each other, screw the war. For a short time, Ali was happier than it was appropriate. Then Lawrence began to cry wildly, fighting against Ali’s grip, who instantly released his friend.

“Don’t you touch me!” It was not fury darkening the soldier’s ice blue eyes. It was sadness. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.” Ali tried not to sound disappointed. “I won’t.” The silence that was dominating the next few moments was shrill and hardly bearable. Then Lawrence finally answered. “It´s better.” His voice sounded broken, full of tears. “I´m dirty.”

  

* * *

 

Ali was insecure about what to do. Waiting in this godforsaken cave was exhausting, tearing on his nerves. Lawrence even refused to let his injuries be tended. And Ali did not dare to touch him, to ask him, well, to do anything. Because anything could break this fragile, pale being in front of him, and he could not see something beautiful to be destroyed. That´s why Ali continued doing what he did the hours before. Waiting.

 

* * *

 

It was way beyond midnight, when he heard Lawrence shifting and murmuring again. His dreams must be like hell, Ali thought. He could not avoid touching him in this case.

This time, there was no lingering. No moment of peace. This time, Lawrence began to cry the heartbeat he awoke. “No. No touching.” He started kicking, fighting against the Arab´s grip. Ali drew back.

But the thought of the hours of silence to come frightened him. And so, he used his voice. It sounded rough after not using it for such a long time. “But why.”

“I´ve said that before.” The blonde´s voice seemed cold, even hard. Ali remained silent.

  

* * *

 

When the sun lighted up the earth, covering it with its flaming heat, both men were still awake. And so was the silence between them. Ali dared to take a look on the soldier´s face. It seemed younger and older at the same time.

You´re not dirty, Aurens”. The blonde opened his eyes in confusion. “What?” “You´re not dirty, Aurens. You´re clean. You´re the purest being I have ever met.” Ali reached out for his friend´s face, but the man flinched and shut his eyes. He wanted to hide his shame.

“I´m not. Not after Deraa.” The disgust at himself was like a knife cutting to the glimmering desert air.

This time, Ali did not care about Lawrence´s flinching at his touches. He took him into his arms, softly stroking his golden hair. In the end, Lawrence gave in. “You´re not dirty, my friend. Not even after that”, Ali whispered. “To me, you will never be.”


	2. Chapter 2

The lean, strong body. His heart, softly pounding. Soft and golden, his hair, like the sun. Everything about him felt unreachable and real at the same time. Rough, but also fragile. Dangerous and beautiful, like the desert. Ali inhaled his fragrance. He even smelled like the desert.

He was not sure how long he remained like that, holding Lawrence in his arms, stroking his bright hair. He did not care. For him, it could have gone on forever. Ali felt that his tunic was beginning to get wet. But he knew better than to tell Lawrence that he knew he was crying in his arms. Instead he decided to tighten his embrace, an attempt at slowing down the ongoing destruction of everything that was dear to him, of everything that was inbetween his arms.

But more and more he began to understand that he could already be to late. That his one and only friend could be dying right in front of him.

"El Aurens", he finally said. "Are you okay?" Of course Lawrence was not. He was shivering heavily in his arms, his body burning like fire against Ali's.

As the English man answered, Ali nearly did not hear his voice. "I am", the blonde said. His voice was weak, too quiet. He looked up, right into Ali's eyes, confused, sad, frightened.

"Aurens". Ali put his hand against the English' forehead. "My friend, you have a fever. I have to tend your injuries. Now." He tried to sound calm, but inside, he was mad with fear.

Lawrence flinched, suddenly fought against Ali's embrace. Reluctantly, he let go off him. To him, it felt like something was missing. "Aurens". Ali could not help his voice sounded pleading.

"No." Lawrence suddenly seemed very cold - just as the wind at his home island must be, Ali thought. "I have to, Aurens."

The British soldier simply ignored everything he said.

It made Ali feel horrible. The least thing he wanted to to know was to invade Lawrence' personal space but, to be honest, it was inevitable. He tried not to cringe when he thought how infected the wounds will already be, without any real treatment or even clean water. If Ali would not help him know, he sooner or later will die. And then, Ali would, too.

Again, this nerve-wracking silence. Exhausting like the desert sun. Ali was contemplating, in silence. He knew that to him, the though that Lawrence could die was a threat. Deep inside, however, he was also aware that to Lawrence, this thought might be a promise. He did not mind. After all that has happened to this man, this wonderful, bright and beautiful man.... And instantly, Ali understood: Lawrence has not recognized yet. He still has no idea that Ali knows.

"Aurens". Ali said. The English did not show any reaction. "Look at me. Please." Ali talked in a soft voice, reaching with his hand to stroke his friend's blonde head. He did not even flinch. "Lawrence I know what has happened to you. Everything." Ali's heart took a jolt so fast was his friend's reaction: Turning around, the look, angry, ashamed everything. Then, again, this terrible, terrible silence.

His voice sounded hard when he answered. "Do what you have to do, Ali."

Slowly, he started to undress. Ali turned away, until the English lay down.

All that he saw was utter destruction. Complete disruption. Of something that once seemed beautiful beyond belief. Ali sucked the breath through his teeth. He tried hard not to give in his urge to cry. "These bastards", he hissed.

* * *

 

After he finished, he carefully dressed his friend and helped him in a comfortable position. All the time, he tried to avoid looking into Lawrence' eyes, since they looked emptier than before. He was afraid that keeping him alive could have killed him even sooner. That the shame was unbearable to him. He felt it when he tried to tend the wounds at his anus, torn apart by things Ali did not like to think about. He did not want to imagine how many, and how often, and the worst, how he cried, fought, called for him, called for help. And he had not been there. 

Now he was there. And step by step, be began to understand his role in this process, his role in Lawrence' life. He began to understand that he was the only one who still could save him. 

And that is why he took him into his arms again. Even though he felt that the life he was holding there was more and more fading.

* * *

 

"I can kill them for you, you know", Ali finally whispered. Lawrence looked at him with his eyes wide open. He slightly shook his head. "No. This would change nothing."

"As you like", Ali said and softly stroked his cheek, swiping a tear away. "I hate them." 

"Don't. It was my fault." Dead, dead eyes, emtpy, endless, dark. 

"How was it-?" Ali tried to ask but he was interrupted.

"They were right. I am nothing more than filth. Something to use and throw away."

"Aurens-".

"I've chosen that. In the end, I begged him to fuck me because then the strokes at my back would stop. You know what he did? He refused. I have become to filthy for his likes. Then, he gave me away to his soldiers."

"That fucking bastard, I swear, I-" Ali began to feel sick.

"Ali. No". Lawrence voice suddenly sounded clear. "Please. Listen to me. You need to listen to me."

Ali understood that he had to comply. Even if he never ever wanted to hear what Lawrence was going to tell him.

"You know, Ali, as they got me I was standing in front of him and he began to touch me, demanding, more. Right then, this still seemed impossible to me." He laughed bitterly. "It was hell. You know, the beating. I was like standing in a fire hotter than the sun and you're not burning, you're exploding. It was then when I began to realize that I should have gave myself away to the officer." Ali was dying to say something, do something, no, you're not filth, you're perfect, I love you, but he was forced, forced to do nothing but listen.

"And then he took me the first time, you know, the officer. Not like he would have taken me in the beginning. There was not even the slightest bit of tenderness in his touch, just him taking me, hard, like - like a whore." His eyes widened. "Like a whore. And then the others followed, taking me, beating me, all the same. It was then when I begged him to fuck me again, and it was then when I told me I was worth nothing, not even worth enough to be his whore. He told me I was too dirty, you know, too dirty, too - "

"Stop". Ali's voice sounded broken. Tears were flooding his face. He took the blonde's head into his hands. "Stop it. I'm there. I'm always there, Lawrence. Always there for you."

For a short time, they both were silent, the things the English has said brooding over them like the desert heat. 

"You know", Lawrence then said, "you know what is the worst. The worst is that this was the first time someone has touched me."

The realization hit hard when it finally reached Ali's brain. "You're a virgin?!" 

"Not any more". Lawrence' voice was full of self-disgust.

"Don't be stupid, my friend". Ali softly pulled him closer. "To me, you are."

"Whatever." The English flatly responded. "No one will touch me again, that is clear."

Me! Ali thought. Me! I want to touch you, don't you see. 

He was roused from his daydreams by the English man's voice. "Can you tell me what it is like?"

Ali was confused. "What what is like?" 

"What it is like to kiss someone?"

Ali nearly wept again. That question, so naive, so innocent. He studied his face for a long time, this perfect, angelic face. Then he responded. "It is like connecting with heaven. Like, you're somewhere else, somewhere your mind can't reach. And you're just living at that moment, just there, nowhere else. And it's like you're slowly vanishing out of this world, forgetting who are are, that you have a body. And you unite, feeling one with the person you're kissing. Feeling, like, yeah, that's what eternity is like."

He did not recognize that he has closed his eyes while talking, imagining that he was actually kissing someone, actually kissing him. As he opened his eyes he saw that Lawrence was crying, in pain. "Ali, that's perfect. I - I want to forget. You sure I can forget?"

And suddenly, Ali understood.

"I'm sure", he said. Then he kissed him.

 


End file.
